Shallow
by Kitty-Kat-Gone-Bad
Summary: When Ventus was accused of being shallow, he never denied it; because he was. And it's not like he didn't have money of his own, he had plenty of it; it was just so much more appealing spending someone else's cash rather than his own. Vanitas/Ventus VanVen slight lemon OOC!Ventus
1. Midday Shenanigans

When Ventus was accused of being shallow, he never denied it; because he was. He always judged a man first by his appearance; if he didn't have a nice, curved figure with a smooth chest, a neat five hundred dollar haircut and a wonderfully smooth jaw that wouldn't give him beard burn later that evening, then Ventus sent them back to the trash, on all fours with their tales tucked between their legs. He liked flashy cars, expensive meals, extravagant dates and large cream-coloured apartments where he could sit in the spa-bath for hours after his man had left for work. And it's not like he didn't have money of his own, he had plenty of it; it was just so much more appealing spending someone else's cash rather than his own.

But above all, Ventus was attracted to power. Those guys with the seven digits salaries, that worked 70 stories off the ground and had their own office where the couches were lined with leather and the rugs had come all the way from Japan simply because the guy could. He liked the guys with their own secretaires and assistants who were called in to fetch Ventus anything he wanted, giving him glares on the way out and making the experience just that much more enjoyable. He loved having a boyfriend that made his friends hate him while at the same time, wishing they _were _him.

And that's why Vanitas Specter was his Mount Everest, his Eifel Tower, his Statue of Liberty, his Mona Lisa; but why _be_ those things when Ventus knew Vanitas had enough money, contacts, charm and _power_ to simply buy all those things for himself.

Ventus mulled over what it would be like to actually own the Statue of Liberty (I mean who really needs a big-ass green tower of some ugly lady anyway). He stretched contently on Vanitas' leather couch (the one that was mentioned earlier), his torso covered by the Egyptian cotton sheets Vanitas had flown in especially for him, his upper body adorned with Vanitas' work shirt, blue with light silver stripes (vertical, of course), still crisp despite the urgency it had been ripped off its original owner only moments before.

"Vanitas," he turned to his shirtless boyfriend, who was walking around with a cup of coffee in his hand and a newspaper in the other; his usual lunch break when Ventus didn't decide to take advantage of the lock on the office door and the blinds that went in and out with the touch of a button. "If you owned the Statue of Liberty, what would you do with it?'

"Rename it." Vanitas had gotten used to Ventus' randomly voiced thoughts soon after their first date. Ventus became curious, rolling over so his head was resting on his arm.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I could. Besides, I can't restructure it or I'll get in trouble. I can't close it off as its one of the highest grossing tourist attractions this city has and selling it again would just be a waste of my time unless I was getting double what I paid."

Ventus just chuckled. He had gotten used to Vanitas' reasoning process _before_ their first date; besides, that reasoning process was the reason Vanitas had become so successful, had taken over his firm at such a young age and why Ventus was sprawled naked across his office couch at one in the afternoon. That reasoning process was one of the major things Ventus adored about his boyfriend.

"And why on God's green earth," Vanitas started, putting down his coffee and newspaper, walking over to Ventus, ripping away the sheet and crawling on top of his favourite blonde for the second time that day; right between Ventus' legs, right where Vanitas belonged. "Would I waste my money on that tower of weird when I'd much rather spend my money, on say, a Tiffany's bracelet for my darling angel?" Ventus eyed him greedily at the mention of an expensive present. His eyes gleamed with excitement, darkened with lust and his body became alive with the electric feeling of power in the air.

"Hmm, you're right," he looped his arms around Vanitas' neck, pulling him down so his hips were nestled comfortably on Ventus' own, their chests pressed tightly together and their lips barely touching. "I don't know why you would do that. Maybe you should forget about the statue, and just buy me my bracelet."

"Exactly."

Ventus shifted a little, his bare member brushing against Vanitas' slacks, whimpering when Vanitas closed his mouth over the blonde's, biting his lip and smooshing him into the couch. And then Ventus found himself suddenly very occupied with the oh-so pleasurable task of pleasuring his boyfriend, rolling them over in the small space so he grip Vanitas' cock and aim it at his already-to-go hole, whining with need as he pushed himself down.

Ventus was known for being loud during sex, but Vanitas had learnt very quickly never to shush him, even in public places. Because when both of them were really getting into it, their backs and hips aching slightly, scratch marks, red and alive, all down Vanitas' chest and back, Ventus would let out the most wonderful dirty talk; and nobody could make Vanitas feel like a sex god like Ventus could.

"_Oh dear…Vanitas, not there…don't touch tha-ahh…Vanitas you're so good at that…it feels so good…you're too good at this…ahh…ahhhhh…I'm gonna c-ahhh! Vanitas! There! Oh God! You're so strong! Vanitas, I want more of you!"_

And after a few minutes of hearing that he was the best and Ventus' cries of passion fuelling his ego and coating his ears with the most beautiful sounds, it was hard not to cum _very_ hard inside that wonderful ass, squeezing around him just right.

"Mmmmmm…Vanitas…you're _too_ good at what you do…" Ventus moaned a little more, even afterwards when he was back to sprawling on the couch and Vanitas was back to working.

"Well it's easy to be that good when I have a fantastic ass to fuck," Vanitas reasoned further. "I can only do so much with what I have, after all."

Ventus smiled loftily, his eyes swimming with happiness and joy.

"Who says I was talking about the sex?"

Ventus left to go back home a little while after that but Vanitas had to work late into the night and wasn't going to be home until well after midnight, though he tried to reassure Ventus that this had nothing to do with their procrastinating activities. But Ventus was happy to let Vanitas work peacefully; in trade for a new Tiffany's bracelet and a trip to Paris over the weekend.

**I'm seriously thinking of turning this into a series. Let me know if you think so too.**


	2. Back from Paris

"Put the bags over there and _be careful_ with them. There's breakable items in there that cost me a fortune," Vanitas instructed the bellboy.

He rubbed his forehead in frustration, just wanting to take a bath and go to bed. Vanitas really hated jetlag.

"Oh Vani~ Why don't you ever command me in that voice? It's rather a turn on," Ventus cued, striding up to his frustrated boyfriend and resting his arms lightly on Vanitas' shoulders. He began rubbing circles slowly into the muscles there, helping the tension evaporate from the tense muscles.

Vanitas just grumbled in return, hugging Ventus' waist and kissing his hair.

"This is why we don't go to Paris every weekend, 'cause it just means I have to deal with the jetlag," Vanitas scowled. He loved spoiling Ventus, because he knew Ventus loved being spoiled. But sometimes Ventus' extravagant presents meant sacrificing his own well-being for the week afterwards. Though he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed the trip; who wouldn't have enjoyed a trip like that?

"Try not to think about the jetlag, Baby," Ventus said, stroking Vanitas hair and pecking his lips. "Think about how much we got done during the weekend."

"What do you mean? We didn't exactly do anything productive; that's what a holiday is." Ventus rolled his eyes at Vanitas and his reasoning.

"So screwing me twenty-three times in the course of a week isn't 'productive'?" Ventus said with a light pout on his lips. Vanitas' eyes shone in realisation, his signature grin adorning his face, smiling wickedly down at his beloved angel.

"_Oh_ that kind of 'done'." Vanitas then gently guided Ventus so he was facing the opposite direction, Vanitas winding his arms tightly around the blonde's thin waist, resting his chin on the more leaner shoulder and kissing his angel's ear.

"I think it was more than twenty-three times though."

"Three times a day for seven days, two more on the plane, once on the way and another time on the way back; twenty-three." Ventus could do his own reasoning when he felt like it.

"I could've sworn we did it four times on one occasion. Remember when we went to the beach and you wore that bikini." Vanitas nudged his knees up against Ventus' legs, signalling him to start walking towards their bedroom, the bellboy having finally departed so they could get down to what they really wanted; shower and sleep.

"That time didn't count because we had to cut it short. You were being too loud and the life guard caught us in their tower," Ventus stretched his arm up and grazed it through Vanitas' hair as they moved together.

"_I _was being too loud? Well if I was, it's not my fault. You can't expect me to hold myself responsible for my actions when you dress like that and then work your magic and seduce me." They finally came to the bedroom, Vanitas squeezing Ventus' waist and picking him up, flinging them both onto the bed, the doona cover ruffling under their bodies and some of the many pillows toppling to the floor.

"For the thousandth time I wasn't seducing you. I leant over you to grab a bottle of water from the esky and then, for some reason, you found fit to ogle my chest for the next half hour. God knows why; I am no girl," Ventus curved his leg so he could fit the contours of Vanitas' body better, now their backs were neatly aligned and their legs intertwined.

"Doesn't matter. You look sexy in black and white, so I should be expected to do something about it when you wear it. This isn't one of those cheesy, teen, romance dramas where I have to lust after you from afar. You're my boyfriend, I love you, and I want to show you that in many, many different ways…and positions."

Then there were times when the reasoning turned more into a confession, where Vanitas' words made Ventus' heart melt and his skin ache for his touch, for his tongue, for his love. When Ventus' face would turn a little pink and Vanitas would bury his nose into the golden fuzz, kiss the back of his neck and Ventus would breathe deeply and evenly, hoping not to lose it from just a couple of light kisses. Vanitas knew all-too-well how sensitive his angel could be.

Ventus wiggled a bit so Vanitas would loosen his grip just a bit, rolling over and nestling his forehead into the crook of Vanitas' neck and kissing his chest through the slip in his shirt. He played with Vanitas' dog tags, letting the chain run through his fingers and flipping the charms around in his palm before opening his mouth to reply.

"I love you too, Vanitas."

And Vanitas believed him without a doubt. He kissed Ventus, cupping the soft face and pushing his tongue in between those beautiful lips, his other hand continuing to pull the blonde closer so their shirts rode up and their stomachs could touch.

Vanitas showed Ventus his love one more time that week. Afterwards, they both lay there in each other's arms, in the big bed with all the pillows surrounding them and Ventus cushioned comfortably on Vanitas' chest. They listened to the sounds of the city outside, the cars and the constant police sirens. Vanitas played with Ventus' hair, rubbed his bare shoulders and squeezed his ass every now and again. Ventus would lift his head up every so often to place his lips on Vanitas' pecks, before placing his head back down and going back to tracing patterns around Vanitas' navel.

It was easy after that for the both of them to fall asleep, dreaming of each other and all the other twenty-two times in Paris.


	3. First Times

Of course, there were a lot of things Ventus loved about his life with Vanitas. The big, white apartment was one. With the fluffy rug Ventus had picked out to sit in front of the fireplace, the one Vanitas had conned him into doing dirty things on multiple times. The big, white apartment with the amazing view overlooking the city that was really close to Vanitas' firm allowing him to be home longer.

Ventus, of course, loved the money. How Vanitas constantly brought home expensive presents; fancy jewellery or beautiful dresses, or when Vanitas was feeling particularly brave, Victoria's secret lingerie. The feeling of being able to afford anything and knowing that when he walked down the street, he could easily say he was the richest one around.

Vanitas himself was the one of the biggest reasons, of course. How he worked out every morning before leaving for work (sometimes letting Ventus sit on his back while doing one armed push-ups), how, despite his busy lifestyle, still found the time to cook Ventus home-cooked meals every once and a while.

Ventus loved being with Vanitas because of the way Vanitas kissed him; right on the lips, every time. It always started out deep, sensual, and then depending on the mood would either slow to a calm, rhythm that would result in a small make-out and cuddling session on the couch or would escalate to something hot and sexy, resulting in Ventus having a sore back in the morning and a couple of dark bruises on his neck, hips and inner thighs the next morning.

When asked by his peers what the best thing about being with Vanitas was, Ventus always replied with an off-hand:

"Everything. I can't choose just _one_ thing, my life is just too perfect."

But if he really had to choose, Ventus would definitely say it would be the way Vanitas held him. When they both felt like a quiet night together, they would lie on the couch, Ventus between Vanitas' legs, his head resting on a strong chest, with Vanitas's arms around Ventus' waist, looking over the blonde's shoulder while reading his book, that's when Ventus _knew_ his life was perfect.

It was the way Vanitas' arm muscles flexed and adjusted when Ventus shifted ever-so-slightly, or the way Vanitas breathed softly on his skin, not meaning to send a constant line of shivers up Ventus' spine, but doing so none-the-less. It was just, _Vanitas._

Ventus couldn't think of any other way to put it. He had tried multiple times, but couldn't come up with anything other than the image of his boyfriend (sometimes he was shirtless, sometimes he was not) smiling at him while working on his files, or cooking dinner, or even just from his mound of pillows as they lay there in bed together on a Sunday morning.

No words came to mind when he thought of the pale skin of his boyfriend, or the dark, soft hair Ventus was a big fan of, or the muscles that he loved to trace with his pinkie while Vanitas slept in. No words came to mind when he imagined Vanitas holding him around the waist, Ventus himself sitting comfortably on the raven's lap. They might have just been chatting or planning, reading or watching a movie, but if Vanitas was holding him, Ventus just didn't care about anything else.

"What do you want to do this weekend?" Vanitas cut through Ventus' thoughts, gliding his thumb along the blonde's hip bone, tightening his legs around the smaller figure and capturing him in his arms while they watched Bruce Willis and Samuel Jackson speed down the New York City streets.

"I didn't know we were doing anything this weekend," Ventus waited for the pair on the (very large because that's the only way to watch a movie according to Vanitas) television to reach their destination just in the nick of time before answering.

"Well we don't _have_ to, but we haven't done anything in a while, so I figured we should."

Ventus paused, contemplating his options for a moment, before realising a slight flaw in Vanitas' statement.

"Isn't it your sister's birthday this weekend?"

"So?"

"So doesn't that mean she's having a birthday party, knowing your family and their love for grand affairs and the fact that she is turning sixteen?"

"So?"

"Don't pretend you're not catching on, Vanitas. I know that you know what we have to do this weekend." Ventus didn't understand how Vanitas could manipulate people for a living and still not know how to legitimately manipulate his way out of a simple family gathering, which he knew Ventus would make him go to. Vanitas groaned.

"Why do we have to go to that thing? Can't I just have a pony delivered to the house and send my best wishes? It's gonna be so boring! A bunch of sixteen year olds running around and giggling at every, little thing I say because apparently, I'm _that_ hilarious."

Ventus chuckled at Vanitas' resentment to the idea of a sweet sixteen birthday party. Ventus didn't see why; sixteen had been a fun year for him.

"But sixteen year olds aren't that bad; don't you remember when I was sixteen?" Ventus smiled at the memories. He waited while Vanitas thought about it for a while, chewing his cheek and furrowing his brows before his golden eyes lit up with realisation.

"That's right. _Your_ sweet sixteen birthday party, the day we first met," Vanitas was smiling contentedly now, remembering the bright, green sun dress that had adorned the pale skin of his blonde angel on that particular day, how it had framed the shape of his thighs when the wind had picked up or how it had highlighted the curve of his hips when the sun hit him just right.

"As I may recall, it was also the day of our first date, our first kiss and our first, well, _everything,_" Ventus emphasized. It had been a dangerous move, he knew, falling for someone as famous and successful as Vanitas was, and at such a young age; not-to-mention Vanitas was older than him. None of that had to stop Ventus from completely succumbing to everything Vanitas had asked of him. But Vanitas had continued to love him the next day and every other day after, so as risky as the choice was, Ventus never found any reason to regret his bold decision of that day.

"No, no," Vanitas was now arguing. "As I recall, you didn't suck me off for the first time until the next morning. We didn't do _everything_." Ventus elbowed him for the lewd comment. Vanitas merely flinched before burying his nose into the soft skin found in the crook of Ventus' neck, inhaling deeply before speaking again, his lips tickling the skin.

"You were so beautiful. That gorgeous dress showing off your legs while you danced around your back yard, your beautiful eyes standing out against the jewels on your ears, your hair framing your face so delicately in the summer breeze; I had to have you." Now his hands were wrapped tightly around his blonde's waist, travelling dangerously low.

"I remember you, too. You looked so stunning in that suit, the red tie matched you so well, and your hair was all messy and wind-swept. I can remember it very clearly, do you want to know why?" Blonde strands were now spread out over Vanitas' shoulder as Ventus had his head resting there, eyeing Vanitas' hand greedily and hoping it would hurry up enough to fulfil his sanity but not so fast that he didn't get to finish his story.

"Why's that?"

"Because that was the first time I looked at a man and felt any sort of attraction. I remember that at that age, I suddenly had a lot of suitors lining up for my hand. All the boys at school wanted me, but I always turned them down because I felt none of them were good enough for me." Now Ventus was getting impatient, grabbing Vanitas hand tightly and moving it faster towards its intended destination, but halting it just before reaching there.

"And then there was you: already set for success at such a young age, yet still older than me by far. Yet you were such a gentleman, pleasing my father by coming to his son's sixteenth birthday party even though you hated kids and didn't even know me, you even brought a present, white wrapping with a pink bow."

"Forgive me, I thought you liked pink." Vanitas was trying to move his hand, yet sadly his boyfriend was surprisingly strong, and kept his hand firmly in place.

"I was sixteen, Vanitas, not six."

"…you still liked the bunny."

"Yes," Ventus giggled lightly, turning his head so his nose was nestled in the bottom of Vanitas' hair, where the strands were the softest. "I loved the bunny, I still have it."

"Your dad wasn't happy with me, though," Vanitas's eyes flew open briefly in success to moving his hand just a little lower, having finally reached the belt line but having to stop again because of his boyfriend's strength.

"Father was just surprised at my sudden interest in other men. You were his associate after all. He was a little defensiveness."

"_A little?_ He pushed me into your champagne fountain for kissing you on the cheek!" Ventus couldn't help himself. He had to turn his entire body into Vanitas this time, remembering his father's rage at his associate, at Vanitas' face as he fell backwards into a pool of bubbly drink and laughing so hard at the memory, Vanitas had to remove his hand completely because Ventus was shaking too badly.

"At least it was non-alcoholic! But, if you remember, it was because he pushed you into the fountain that you had to take your clothes off in the first place, which made it rather easy for me once I walked in on you later. That's where it all started." Ventus had calmed down and was smiling at a different memory now. A fruity smelling one, with warm lips trailing down his skin and hands moving all over his body, a memory filled with passion and lust, and just a little bit of fear from trusting someone so completely for the first time.

"Yeah, where it all started, right on your parents bathroom sink." That earned Vanitas a good elbow in the ribs.

"Oof! How can you be mad? It's the truth!" Ventus didn't even let him finish, getting up and walking away, through their bedroom into their own bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Vanitas called out disappointedly; he definitely wasn't used to getting cock-blocked by his own boyfriend.

"To get ready for bed," Ventus called out. But he leant his head out through the bathroom door, calling out across the bedroom to a sulking raven-head on the couch.

"If you'd like, we can re-enact our first time after I'm done."

Vanitas has jumped off the couch and was in the bathroom in seconds, hands running over a newly naked blonde, cutting Ventus' voice off with a deep kiss and lifting him up to place him on the counter, shuffling bottles of moisturiser and shaving cream out of the way so Vanitas could nestle in between the pale thighs of his boyfriend, already starting to get hard from the thought of being inside his wonderful angel again, the clear images and feelings of what it was like that first time fresh in his mind, exactly like it would be this time.

And Ventus yielded to Vanitas completely once again, clutching at his strong shoulders, his head falling back and his mouth falling open, his cries echoing off the tiled walls. Of course, there had never been a time since that first time, that Ventus hadn't yielded to Vanitas in anyway and only because it was Vanitas.


End file.
